


I'll Catch You

by one_true_houselight



Category: Leverage
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, I'm love them, It's hurt/comfort, Multi, Slow Burn, Trauma, beautiful crime family, but just the comfort part after the hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_true_houselight/pseuds/one_true_houselight
Summary: Parker, Eliot, and Hardison learning to comfort each other, and to allow themselves to be comforted. They're doing their best
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 16
Kudos: 191





	I'll Catch You

**Author's Note:**

> HI I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M DOING THIS
> 
> yes I can what am I saying. Hi welcome to the show it's me, Erika
> 
> I love this group. I love this ship. I love this show. I found it like two weeks ago and I've fallen head first into it. And I wanted some soft ot3, so I was the change I wanted to see. I have. no idea why I chose to do this in this tense. It felt fun and flowy. I think I stayed in it. Good times.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It’s about six months into being Leverage when Parker comes into HQ early, a far away look in her eyes. She’s sitting on the couch when Eliot walks in, stiller than he’d ever seen her when not on a job. 

“What’s up with you?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She didn’t think he cared about the real answer, no one would, and she thinks her suspicions are correct when he simply grunts and walks into the kitchen.

Until he silently slides her a cup of tea a few minutes later. She looks up, surprised, to see him nod before wandering back to the kitchen. She drinks it, the chamomile filling her nose, the steam filling her eyes. 

Hardison walks in later and sees a slightly more alive, but still distant Parker, still on the couch, so, so still against the final curls of steam from the tea. He carefully sits next to her, not too close. 

“You alright?”

She looks up at Hardison, his eyes narrowed just slightly in concern, and feels the warmth of the tea through the mug in her hands. 

“I will be.” Hardison nods, reaches out a hand, but holds it above her shoulder until she nods back, and then, only then, does he lightly pat her. 

She didn’t know how, but she knew that she had spoken the truth. She would be ok.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Nights like this happened twice a month, if she was lucky.

And while she experienced luck in many areas, this was not one of them. So the number of days where she came in, her head somewhere else entirely, quickly formed a pattern. A cup of tea slid silently to her (she found the truly ludicrous supply of chamomile tea in the pantry one day, and Eliot came running only to find her cackling on the ground. He muttered under his breath as he hauled her back on her feet and closed the cabinet, but smiled when Parker grabbed his shoulder and whispered thank you in his ear), a gentle pat on her shoulder, someone sitting close, but not too close. 

One day, Hardison sits next to her, like usual. She had found a blanket this time, and had pulled up some videos of people jumping around buildings on the screen. 

“Girl, you do this all the time, why are you looking up videos of it?” 

“I like to critique them. It calms me.” Hardison shrugs and sits back a little. 

“Parker?” She looks over at Hardison long enough to see that he has that look again, the look that makes her feel seen in a way she’s not quite used to. “You know, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” She didn’t believe it, not really, but Hardison gently puts his hand on hers. 

“Really, Parker. You can call me too, if you need someone.” It felt like there was something stuck in her throat, so she just nods, staring at Hardison’s hand on hers. 

Then Nate and Sophie walk in, chattering about some con they ran years ago, when Parker was young and alone, and she pushes away the conversation she had just had. 

Two weeks later she wakes up in a cold sweat, desperately trying to convince her body that she was not falling down an endless shaft, but was in her bed, in the blessed, quiet, dark. When her stomach finally stops falling, she rolls out of bed and gets ready to climb into the rafters, to find solace in the criss-crossing beams. But as she stretches, her eyes land on her phone, and she remembers what Hardison said before. 

In a way, it was a lot like jumping off a building when she picks up the phone and dials. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

It goes like that for a while, Parker calling Hardison in the night, and eventually she goes to his place one night when the shadows past her bed wouldn’t stop twisting towards her. They sit on his couch, watching some cheesy sci-fi movie and talking quietly about their last job. 

At one point, Hardison starts rubbing her back. “You feel tense.”

“I’m not tense. I don’t get tense.” But she feels it now, in her shoulders and her feet, as if she’s ready to run. 

“Do I need to give you some space, or-“

“No.” Hardison raises his eyebrows at the abrupt answer. “I just…I don’t want to be a bother. And I feel like I’m bothering you, because I call you all the time, and-“ Parker takes a deep breath, and tries to put a stopper in the flood of words. “I don’t want to become a burden.”

“You’re not, Parker. I’m happy to be here for you, to do what I can, ok?” It’s a moment before Parker nods. “Ok. Don’t worry, just, relax.” 

She leans back, and slowly lets her head rest on Hardison’s shoulder. He responds simply by wrapping an arm fully around her shoulder, pulling her in just enough to make her feel secure. It’s not too much longer before they both fall asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~

One day, they’re sitting on the office couch, her and Hardison. Because of the multiple twists and plan changes, Hardison hasn’t slept in almost three days, and is understandably a little delirious. 

“Is it, is it ok if I lean, like, kinda on your shoulder?” He asks, his words less clear than normal as the hours of constant work weigh down his tongue. 

“Yeah, you’re good.” As Hardison lays his head on her shoulder, a sleepy smile on his face, Eliot walks up with a plate full of food. 

“Eat this before you fall asleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. Carbs and such-“

“Come sit with us, El. C’mon, we got, we got a blanket!” 

Eliot sputters a little. “What are- man, what- did you call me El?”

“Yeah, man! It’s a nickname!” Hardison clumsily grabs for Eliot’s wrist, missing a few times. “Come sit with us, man, it’s cold in here.” Hardison’s fingers manage to close on Eliot’s wrist, and he is pulled onto the couch. Parker deftly catches the plate of food and sets it in Hardison’s lap, who throws the blanket over Eliot before turning back to the plate. 

“You know I let you grab me, right?” Eliot grumbles, but he’s slowly allowing himself to relax. Hardison, as he eats what looks like fried rice, reaches over and musses Eliot’s hair a little. Eliot bats his hand away, but Parker catches a small grin on his face. 

“Oh, of course, there’s no way my sleep-deprived ass could catch the great Eliot Spencer.”

“Best believe it, Hardison.” A few minutes later, Hardison finishes eating and soon after passes out, leaning fully on Parker. She shifts carefully, trying to find a comfortable position. She glances over at Eliot, who is looking down at his hand, which Hardison has entwined in his own. 

“I should go,” he says quietly, but makes no attempt to move.

“Stay, Eliot. It’ll be nice.” He shrugs, the soft grin flitting across his face. 

Nate and Sophie find them there the next morning, tangled in the blanket, breathing softly and in sync. 

~~~~~~~~~

Parker sits on the office couch, mind foggy, heart beating wildly in her chest. Rather than one big crack, this week had chipped away at her one piece at a time, until it led her here, to the office couch, alone. Hardison was out of town, busy with something, and her guilt, her lingering feeling of being too much, keeps her from messaging him. She doesn’t know how long she sits there, but at some point she hears hesitant steps behind her. Soon, a shape appears in her peripheral, and she is surprised to see that it is Eliot, a man who she’s never heard hesitant footsteps from before. 

He has a cup of tea and a hesitant expression to match his footsteps. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Her voice is quiet and small. Eliot sets the tea down carefully, stares at the floor for a second, then rounds the table and sits down beside her. She picks up the tea and takes a sip, letting the steam fill the silence between them. 

“Um,” Eliot starts. “You look like something’s eating at you.” She nods. “Yeah. I...Hardison’s better at this, but I can’t just leave you here alone.”

“I mean, you could.”

“No. I couldn’t.” Parker looks over to see Eliot looking at her, his eyes filled with their normal fierce protection, along with something else she couldn’t place. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

“‘Course. So, uh. What can I do?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s different, this time. I...I don’t know.”

“It usually is.” He pauses, clearly thinking. “What do you do to relax?”

“Safe cracking. Climbing.”

“Something not job related.”

Parker scoffs. “What do you do that’s ‘not job related’?”

“Cooking. Gardening. Going-” 

“Damn it, ok.” Eliot grins at her, and Parker feels herself smiling, just a little. As Eliot starts chuckling, his hair moves to show a small braid right by his ear, and Parker is thrown into a hazy memory of being a little girl, and having some friend whose name and face were lost to time braid her hair, and her braiding theirs in turn. 

Her hand moves involuntarily to her head. “You ok? Got a headache?”

“No, just a...weird idea.” Eliot gestures for her to go on. “Braiding hair. You have your little,” she waves her hand at his head, “braid things, I haven’t braided anyone’s hair in years because I hate braiding my own, but it’s fun, and calming, and…” Eliot is staring at her. “It’s a dumb idea.”

“No, not really. Mine are a calming thing too, it makes...sense.” He gets up and moves in front of Parker, pulling the ottoman so he is seated a little below her. “Go for it.”

They sit like that for a while, occasionally switching spots to let the other have a turn. At one point, Parker turns on the video wall.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to try a fun braid.”

Eliot tries to turn, but is blocked by Parker’s hand on his head. “A fun braid? It’s a braid! Three strands, and-” He stops talking when Parker’s query turns up hundreds of results. “Ok, I stand corrected.”

“I’m gonna do this one.”

“No, Parker, that one looks dumb.”

“It’ll be fun, you’ll have little things sticking out, they’ll be all fluffy-”

“Parker!” She laughs and scrolls through the choices. Eliot reaches back and puts a hand on her knee. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Parker realizes he’s right. “How did you-”

“You laughed.”

“Oh. Guess I did.”

After that, Eliot and Parker have a tradition of sorts, whether it be before a big job to quiet their nerves, or just for fun on a long night. They try to get Hardison to grow his hair out (“Absolutely not, we cannot all have long luxurious locks, it would be unfair. Unfair!”), but in the end, they like having their own quiet ritual. 

~~~~~~~~~

It’s after Moreau when Parker and Hardison find themselves in front of Eliot’s door. It had been a week since they got back from San Lorenzo, and Parker had tracked down Hardison the day before. 

“We have to go to Eliot.” Hardison had looked at her like she had announced she was going to become a UN Ambassador. 

“You know Eliot, he’ll...he’ll want to be alone.”

“Maybe most of the time. Maybe he thinks all of the time. But we need to at least try, let him know we’re still here, even if he decides he doesn’t want us...there.”

Hardison had looked worried. “I don’t know, Parker, I-”

“Please. You helped show me that I didn’t have to be alone. I have to show him the same thing. And I can’t do that without you.” She watched Hardison think about all the times Eliot had helped them, had sat and joked and braided her hair and gotten him orange soda. 

Finally, he smiled. “He thinks every man is an island. We’re gonna build him a drawbridge.” Parker cocked her head. “Like, so he has the option to have people, but can shore up his defenses when- never mind, let’s go get out boy.”

So now they’re standing in front of Eliot’s door, hoping they are making the right choice. 

“Are you gonna knock?”

“No, I think you should do it.”

“Woman, this was your idea-” Without warning, the door swings open, and Eliot is standing there, face shifting from anger to confusion. 

“Who the hell-Parker? Hardison?” 

“Hi, Eliot.”

“What are y’all doing here?” He sounds tired, and Parker sees that his knuckles are covered in bandages, blood seeping through the gauze. 

“We’re here to build you a drawbridge.”

“You’re here-what?”

“Hardison said it, I thought it sounded good.” Hardison rolls his eyes.

“It’s a metaphor, it’s so- you know what, doesn’t matter. We got things for you, let us in, we’ll leave in fifteen minutes if you want us to.”

Eliot stares at them for a long time, long enough that Parker thinks he’s going to close the door with them on this side. But finally, he swings the door open and silently walks into his place, leaving Parker and Hardison to follow. 

His apartment is clean, which Parker expected. There’s a utilitarian couch and a well stocked kitchen, which she also expected. As she walks, however, she finds something she did not expect: pictures that contain, among other things, a young Eliot. There’s some from his childhood, a few that seem to be high school time frame, and one of a smiling Eliot in uniform, a uniform too clean, too neat to have seen any action yet. The same can be said of the smile on his face. 

Questions fill Parker’s mind, but they are pushed away by a memory.

“Don't ask me that, Parker. Because if you ask me, I'll tell you. So please don't ask me.”

Tonight is not the night for questions. 

She walks into the kitchen and puts her bag down, pulling out a box of the chamomile tea that Eliot always makes her. Eliot walks in behind her and sees the box. 

“You brought tea.”

“Yeah. You always make it for me, and we have enough of it at the office.” Not saying anything, Eliot walks out of the kitchen, leaving Parker to realize she has no idea how to make tea. 

She pokes her head out to see Hardison showing Eliot a bright pink machine. “It’s a braiding thing. It puts, like, fun colored stuff in your hair.”

“It’s pink.”

“Eliot, I know you are not about to try and say that pink is a girl’s color.”

“Hardison, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Look man, I’m just trying to help! I know you like the braids and all that, so I found this!”

“It’s not just about the braids! It’s the process, that thing is an insult!” Parker coughs loudly to interrupt. 

“Eliot, where can I find a...kettle?” 

Eliot stands up, reaching out to take the tea. “I’ll make it, Parker.”

“Dude,” Hardison says, also standing, “We’re here to help you, let us-”

“Dammit Hardison, I can make my own tea, ok?” The fire in Eliot’s eyes dies as quickly as it arrived. “Just...it’ll be ok.” Parker lets Eliot take the box, then follows him into the kitchen. She hears Hardison a few steps behind.

Eliot waits a few moments as the water runs before speaking. “So I can’t be trusted to operate my own stove now?”

“No, we...want to show you we’re here.” Parker looks over at Hardison, but before he can speak, Eliot starts talking.

“I can see that, thanks. My question is why?” He turns around, and there is nothing in his eyes. “You saw what I did, what I’ve done. Who I am. Why’d you come out all this way, go through all the trouble just to help me?”

Hardison takes a while to find his words. “Because you protect us, man. You put your life on the line.”

“That’s my job.”

“I know, but no one is forcing you to do it, you know? And, and-” Hardison is struggling, and Parker blurts out-

“Because you’re family, Eliot. Because,” and Parker is trying not to cry, “I know, beyond anything else, that you will catch me. No matter what. You’ll catch any of us. And we’re here to catch you too.”

“You don’t have to take every fall. We’re like, we’re like a mattress. Or some pillows, the good kind. Hypoallergenic-”

“Now you’re making it weird, Hardison,” Eliot says, tears streaking down his face.

“You get the point!” Hardison is swiping away tears at this point as well, and Parker walks forward and pulls Eliot into a hug. Hardison joins them and they stand there for a while, swaying slightly as they cry, until the whistling of the kettle pulls them apart. 

Eliot stares at the kettle for a moment. “Look. I...I think I need a few days. Before I can really. Let people in.”

“Ok,” Parker says, nodding. “We’ll go, leave you be for a bit more.”

“Yeah.” 

“Now you know we’re here.”

“I do.” Hardison and Parker look at each other, then turn and start to leave. “Hey.” They turn back to see Eliot staring at the ceiling, back still to them. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Love you, man.”

“Love you, Eliot.”

His answer, barely audible: “Love you too.”

Or maybe it was “Love you two.”

Or maybe, just maybe, it was both.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading, please leave kudos and comments if you are so inclined! Also, come find me on tumblr @one-true-houselight, I post some dope memes and will hopefully get more into writing now that my life has calmed down. yay!


End file.
